


Flashbulb

by harcourt



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cock Cages, D/s-verse, Don't Examine This Too Closely, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Photography, Restraints, Sex Toys, Spreader Bars, Threesome - F/M/M, longfic_bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4133325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harcourt/pseuds/harcourt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony and Pepper are the best. When they're not scheming, plotting, and telling bullshit cover stories about Pepper's home photography projects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flashbulb

**Author's Note:**

> For my [longfic bingo square threesome/moresome](http://harcourt.dreamwidth.org/6611.html).

He should really have woken up when the bed jiggled the first time, but Clint was aware enough of where he was, and that it was probably Tony climbing around and jostling that he didn't bother to do more than grumble and try to shift a little further away from him. With his hands fastened to the footboard, that didn't work too well, so Clint buried his face in one arm and growled, "Tony," in a way that he'd meant to sound threatening, but came out as a sleepy whine.

"Shush, shush." Tony patted him, more teasing than soothing, and shifted around some more, but a little more carefully now. His hand stayed on Clint's back. 

"I told you you'd wake him." Pepper. Nearby, and scolding, but not in the way she did when Tony was genuinely being an ass, so Clint figured she approved of whatever Tony was up to.

Clint grumbled complaint and tugged at his hands again. Tested his range. He wasn't tied right to the footboard, but was fastened with a couple of short tethers, giving him enough slack to turn on either side, and to keep his shoulders from getting stiff, but the width of the cuffs and fussy clasps meant he wasn't getting himself loose. At least, not without some time and awkward contortionism. He'd probably have to use his teeth.

It was too much work. Besides, Clint was comfortable and warm and clean. Dressed in t-shirt and boxers and sunk into Tony and Pepper's down stuffed comforter, where they had steered him right after they'd steered him into and then out of a shower, half dead on his feet and happy to let them direct him. 

Happy to let them fit the cuffs onto him, and willing to be positioned and tied, and then oblivious. Too relaxed and tired to give a shit. He was still, really, too relaxed to give a shit. The tired part was better, though. Even if he wanted Tony to settle down and let him doze a bit longer.

He was sinking back into it, even in spite of Tony's fidgeting, when something clicked and light exploded across his face. 

He jumped. His shoulders jerked hard, bringing him up short and yanking him back down to his belly, and Clint swore, head whipping around to search the room. 

"Sorry," Pepper said, standing over him, a small black rectangle in her hands. "I thought I had the flash off. Tony? Could you?"

The phone was passed over his head, and Pepper folded her arms and rested them on the tall footboard, smiling. Clint snorted and dropped his head back to the comforter, only half listening to Tony complain about camera functions, and half watching Pepper through the bars he was tied to, suddenly much more aware of the way he was pinned. Spread across their bed on his belly, Tony somewhere at his back, legs crossed and knees pressed against Clint's side.

"Sleep okay?" Pepper asked. 

"Until you blitzed him," Tony answered.

"I thought it was off."

"Here." The phone passed back, Tony putting a hand on Clint's back as he leaned over to reach it to her. "Now it's off. Watch the birdy, Hawkeye."

That sounded like an order, so Clint did it, eyes tracking the camera lens as Pepper went into a crouch to get more on his level, then shifted left and right, finding an angle she liked. The shutter clicked, then clicked again. Pepper frowned at the screen. Took another couple of shots, then lowered the phone and smiled.

"Hi."

"Mm." 

Tony nudged him, and Clint swallowed and corrected himself to, "Hey." His voice sounded thick with sleep, and Pepper snaked a hand through the bars of the footboard to pet his hair and face. 

"You look good like this."

"Tied to our bed," Tony added. Clint could hear the grin in it, the self-satisfaction. "I told you it would be fun to have a sub around."

Pepper made an annoyed sound, but she also kept petting Clint, so he closed his eyes again and let them bicker. "I didn't know who you were talking about," she said, but the gentle tone meant it was directed at Clint as much as at Tony. Pepper was a great dom. Warm and competent and gentle, and just impatient enough with Tony to make Clint laugh. "If I'd known you meant _Clint_ , I'd have been on board right away. Hmm?"

That was definitely directed at Clint. He opened an eye to make sure, then grinned a little and agreed, "Yeah."

"You sure you want to side against me, Barton?" Tony asked, hand curling around the back of Clint's knee, ticklish, then firmer. Clint twitched. "Hey. None of that."

"Then quit it." Clint grouched, and Tony's hand lifted again, so he could wiggle his fingers tips in the pit of Clint's knee. Intentionally light, and making Clint kick out.

"What? You mean this?"

Pepper's phone clicked again, and Clint stilled. Tugged on his restraints. "Guys?"

Tony's hand turned firm again. Restraining instead of teasing. "Pepper's got a whole personal interest four page spread thing, and since word is out about you." Tony paused, maybe to shrug, but Clint didn't try to look, staring down Pepper's camera instead. "Maybe it's better to not keep hiding you away."

"You're going to--?" Clint jerked at the tethers again, fully awake now. "Wait."

"I'm not sending them anywhere if you don't want," Pepper soothed, and reached through the bars again to take Clint's wrist and push it down. "But once I started thinking--"

"She wanted pictures of you sleeping. It's all very creepy and inappropriate. Who knows what Pepper has tucked away in some flashdrive somewhere of _me_."

"Only what you sent me yourself, Tony." 

Clint relaxed. Shifted a little to get comfortable again and sighed when Pepper released his wrist with an approving, "Good boy," and snapped another picture. 

"Here's what’s going to happen," Tony said, bouncing the bed again as he moved, then again as he flopped back down next to Clint, so they were face to face, "You're going to behave yourself and do what you're told and then me and you can sit down and rate Pepper's photography skills on a scale yet to be worked out."

Clint frowned. "Who's idea was this?"

"Originally?" Tony was already sitting up again, pushing out of Clint's sight line, "Some rag. But Pepper extrapolated, so don't blame me."

Clint pushed as far as he could and twisted around to get a look at Tony, then let his breath out in a huff when he was pushed back down. "What do you want me to do?"

"Sir," Tony corrected.

"Tony," Clint corrected back. Tony let it go.

"You don't have to do anything. Just relax, answer questions, and look at the camera when Pepper tells you." Tony's fingers were at his waist, tentative like he was feeling something out, then they slid under Clint's waistband and tugged. "Lift your hips."

"I thought I didn't have to do anything," Clint said, but obeyed.

"And no lip, or some very lucky readers are going to see exactly what you look like crying." Clint huffed as Tony tossed his boxers away and got a grip on an ankle, repositioning his legs, spreading him out, before patting his butt in approval. "Don't move."

"You know," Clint said, directing it over his shoulder while Tony fussed with something, "I was mainly in this because your bed is so great."

"And you look great sleeping in it. Tied to it. Tied _in_ it. Everything. We're really happy you're so easily seduced by memory foam." 

Something tightened around one ankle, and Clint sucked in a breath. Pepper's shutter snapped, then snapped again when the same thing happened to his other leg and Clint realized what Tony was doing. 

"Don't move, Clint."

"I'm not. I--" The spreader bar pushed his legs even further apart, making movement more awkward, and leaving him tugging restlessly at the footboard. 

"Calm down. You've been tied to this bed before."

"Yeah. I know. Yeah."

"How's he look, Pepper?" 

The shutter snapped, and then the phone passed over Clint's head. There was no way those photos were going to be print quality. That the thought occurred to him at all probably meant that Clint was freaking out, a little, but he took a breath and then another, and felt his face heat when Tony absently patted his ass again, _hmm_ -ing in thought as he scrolled through Pepper's photos.

Clint fidgeted. Tested the give of the ankle cuffs and the spreader bar, then settled when Tony's hand slid up his back and under his t-shirt, stroking soothingly, pushing the fabric up towards Clint's shoulders then letting it slide back. The combination of being half-clothed and restrained between them while Tony and Pepper chatted and teased over his head made Clint feel put on display and sidelined at the same time. Not quite a toy, but something a little like it, waiting on Tony and Pepper to stop flirting with each other and pay attention to him. It was weird. Clint had been with multiple doms before, but not doms who belonged to each other. Not doms who jockeyed for control in the way Tony and Pepper did, with Tony's boundary pushing on the one side, and Pepper's exasperated organization on the other, complimenting each other in a way that doms weren't meant to. Fitting into a whole as smoothly as any dom-sub partnership. 

It was kind of great to watch them try to get the upper hand, and kind of great to be the focus of their teamwork, not that Clint gave them that much of a fight. Mostly because he adored Pepper, and wanted her to pet his hair and kiss his face and probably Tony knew it, because he let Pepper play good cop, while he parted Clint's ass and shoved fingers into him, testing but rough.

Clint groaned, but lifted his hips for Tony and pressed his face into the comforter, concentrating on the way Pepper's fingers moved through his hair and down his neck, leaning over the footboard to reach, and humming soothingly.

"What exactly," Clint grunted, as Tony pulled out, then returned, fingers slick and cool now, "kind of magazine was this?"

"Shh."

The story had so many holes in it. Clint let his breath out and relaxed, making his muscles unlock and letting himself sink back into Tony's mattress, hands curling loosely on the sheets. 

"There you go," Tony praised, and Clint heard the snap of the camera. Flinched. "Oops. Too soon, Pepper."

Pepper was still leaning over him, too close and the angle wrong to be getting Tony or Clint's naked ass in the frame. Not making a record of anything too incriminating, then. Or at least, not yet. "It's okay," she murmured, "You're okay. We've got you."

"That's what," Clint managed, mostly into his arm, "I'm worried about."

Tony laughed, worked him open steadily in a way that was mostly weird and invasive, but made Clint relax and drift, still sleepy enough that being tied there, in Tony and Pepper's bed, felt more like rest than anything else, even with Tony knuckle deep inside him.

"So lazy," Tony chided, changing the angle until Clint couldn't help but groan and try to roll his hips back, trying to get more pressure, or more friction, or just get Tony to stop messing around and go back to letting him half-drowse. 

"He's nice like this," Pepper argued, and the bed dipped as she came around to sit by Clint, then leaned over and kissed his face. Clint smiled. Tried to wriggle closer, but came up with too little slack on his right wrist and had to abort. Pepper kissed him again. "We're right here."

"Oh, yeah. Baby _him_ ," Tony groused, and swatted Clint's thigh in fake peeve, not hard enough to hurt. Clint made a soft sound anyway, half humoring Tony, and half milking it for sympathy. Pepper laughed.

Scolded, "Liar," and tugged at his hair, making him lift his head, but didn't let go when he did. 

"What do you want me to--Oh." Tony's hands had moved, one of them cupping Clint's balls and the other fumbling with something that was cold when it brushed the insides of Clint's thighs. 

"Hang on to him, Pep."

Clint struggled. A little because it seemed like he was supposed to, and a little bit more out of genuine alarm, because Tony saying that was always suspicious and had, in the past, led to things that Clint had enjoyed, but also to things that Clint really didn't want to admit he had enjoyed.

There wasn't really far he could go with his arms pinioned wide and Tony putting weight on the bar between his legs. The most he could do was lift his hips and squirm and that was really more effective in helping Tony than in escaping or hindering him.

"Come on, Barton," Tony cooed, "you're going to like this. Well, no. You're probably going to hate this, but we'll all get a lot of fun out of watching you do it. Stay still."

Clint didn't. Tony's hand tightened on his balls.

"Okay. Okay, I'm holding still. Tony, _let up_." Tony didn't, and Clint moaned, tried to squirm free, and heard himself make a pained noise when all he managed was to pull against Tony's grip. 

"Don't. Move." There was no threat in it. Tony sounded more like he was concentrating over something and didn't want Clint distracting him. "What did I say about being good?"

"Right," Clint breathed. His hands balled and loosened in the sheet as he made himself wait Tony out, wincing a little at the continued pressure. "Sorry."

The cold thing in Tony’s hand was a little warmer now, brushing between Clint's thighs, and then Tony released him to take his cock in careful fingers and work it gently through--

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Don't move," Tony warned again, instead of answering, adjusting and fiddling until he was satisfied, and the thing was snug around Clint's cock, and strapped firmly around his nuts. "There. How's that feel?"

"You're right," Clint said, sliding down to lie flat on his belly and experimentally rolling his hips, "I'm going to hate this."

"See? Fun already."

The cock cage slid and snagged against the sheet, but didn't budge, and Clint scowled at the only thing that it made sense to, which was Pepper. Who snapped a photo. "Damn it." 

"Aw," Pepper cooed in sympathy, but it was a put on. Clint glared.

"You're just as bad as Tony," he accused, when she unrepentantly took another picture.

Warned, "What did we say about the mouth?" 

"I don't like when you do the 'we' thing," Clint grumbled, "I like when you're fighting and think Tony is being an ass and then stop him from doing stuff like this."

"Oh," Pepper said, directing it past Clint, to where Tony was sitting, and smiled lopsidedly, "but then I wouldn't get to do stuff like _this_." She leaned, moving out of Clint's sight, and then she and Tony were kissing over him, and one of Pepper's hands was on his back, for balance and to keep him still.

"Give me a break," Clint grouched, but couldn't help squirming when Pepper moaned into the kiss and Tony chuckled, then whispered. Something low that Clint couldn't make out but that made Pepper renew the kiss and lean even more towards Tony, resting more weight on Clint's back.

"So?" Tony murmured, clearly against Pepper's mouth, by the way it was muffled, and by the soft kissing noises he made before continuing, "What do you want to do with him? Leave him here and we go to lunch while you think about it?"

"No," Clint said. "If I get a vote, I vote _no_."

"You don't get a vote. Shut it."

Clint made a disgruntled noise, and if he'd been free might have tried something to distract them from murmuring and whispering at each other, but protest and attempting weak kicks in Tony's general direction was the best he could manage, and all of those attempts ended as pathetic failures.

"Just settle down," Pepper soothed, "No one's going anywhere, and all _you_ have to do is--"

"Behave. Yeah, yeah." It was different coming from Pepper. Other doms who had told him _just behave_ had also meant _just take it_ , but with Pepper and Tony taking it meant getting to be lazy and taken care of. Usually. Sometimes it meant being played with while the two of them acted like smug lovebirds about it.

"Alright," Clint agreed, thinking about that, "but I get a picture, too. One where Tony looks extra stupid." And lovestruck. The dopey expressions Tony made at Pepper when he didn't think she was looking made Clint want to kiss him and her and let them do anything to him they wanted. " _Extra_ stupid."

"No deals," Tony fake-snapped, and slapped his thigh again, "You'll just behave, or you'll be sorry you didn't. That's it. That's the whole deal."

A series of smart but unwise comments ran through Clint's head, but he let them go and settled for tugging at his restraints, in ineffective rebellion that didn't do much more than remind Tony that he was in a vulnerable position.

"You want to give it try, do you? Clint?"

"The behaving?" Clint asked.

"The being sorry," Tony corrected, and leaned into his field of vision, grinning and trying to smother it. Clint scowled and tugged again, hard enough to rattle the footboard. "Yeah, you do," Tony decided. "You pain in the ass."

Clint pushed up and tried to twist around, following as Tony repositioned himself. "Hey."

"Stop arguing."

"I didn't _do_ anything."

"Still arguing."

"Tony--"

Tony's hand smacked against his ass. Not too hard, but with more intent than the earlier, playful swats, and followed immediately by a hit to the other side. Clint hissed. Tried, " _Tony_ ," one more time, but it came out as a low moan, so he shut up and let his head fall back to the bed, muffling the cry that the next hit--harder and to the inside of one thigh--startled out of him, and rode out the rest, then lay still and panting when Tony stopped.

"Enough?" 

Clint nodded. 

"Something you want to say?"

"Nah."

"Good. Next round, keep looking at Pepper. Get up on your knees."

Clint started to shuffle into position, got tangled in the comforter, then laughed when Pepper had to pull it out from under him and toss it over the side of the bed. "What's round two?" he asked, when he was in place. His hands being tied so far apart kept his head low and made it hard to keep eye contact with Pepper as she moved around. 

"Round two is kiss Pepper," Tony told him, "While I do this." Fingers slid into him again, and Clint groaned approval and let his eyes slide shut.

"I can do that."

He couldn't do it. In no time at all, he was making pleading noises into Pepper's mouth and rocking back against Tony's fingers, trying to get hard inside the cage and losing to the constriction. He wished his hands were free, or at least fixed closer together so he could use them to push himself up and to lean on. Without that, maintaining a workable angle was difficult and he kept having to fall back and take breaks.

"Working so hard," Pepper commented, and Clint wasn't sure which one of them it was directed at, because he was, at the moment, just watching her, face warm, trying not to moan when Tony set a more regular pace. 

Clint closed his eyes, and swallowed hard, and when he opened them again, Pepper's phone was close. It clicked as Clint's mouth fell open on a moan.

"Fuck," Clint said, and struggled, "Oh, fuck," then struggled harder when Pepper took another picture. "Come on." There was something really proprietary about her creating a record of this. About the casual way she was taking snapshots of him tossing his head and groaning when Tony started to finger fuck him in earnest. It wasn't even an invasion of a privacy. It was acting like Clint's privacy and dignity was a thing that was theirs to grant and withdraw, and Clint felt really torn about it, dropping his head to hide his face, hot all the way to his ears, but also painfully aware of the cage. "Oh god, Tony. Tony."

"Mm-hm."

"Let me--Please, Tony. Oh, fuck."

"You stopped kissing Pepper." He'd also broken eye contact, but there wasn't any no reason to point that out, and he didn't have the focus to work out if Tony was scolding or just commenting and whether it was wise to compound any possible consequences.

"Yeah," Clint agreed. Actually, he was pretty disappointed by that, too, but Pepper was moving away, and out range of the pleading looks he tried to send her. 

"Hey. Busy here," Tony complained a second later, as the bed bounced.

"I can see that."

Pepper's hand was on his hip, but Clint could tell her attention was on Tony. Heard them moving around, and then the bed bounced again and Tony groaned. Clint sort of hated them.

"Hang on," Tony said, to his noise of complaint. "Doing okay?"

Clint considered protesting, then decided he didn't want to and murmured, "Yeah," instead. He peered over his shoulder, but Pepper was in his way and he couldn't see what they were doing. Tony's hands were off him, replaced by Pepper's, both of them resting on his butt, light and kind of an odd thing to do, until she spread him out.

"Hey!" Clint complained, mostly out of reflexive indignity, and then he caught himself and settled. Shifted his weight restlessly as something blunt and slick pressed against him.

"Say something nice," Tony demanded.

"Pepper, you're beautiful."

"Ha ha, Barton. Try again."

"I thought that was good," Pepper chimed in, sounding pleased. "Thank you, Clint."

"No problem." It came out as more of a grunt than as the light, rebellious comment he'd meant it to, and was followed by a gasp when Tony pushed the thing into him, in one go. Slow, but smooth, and without pause. "Fuck." _That_ was a squeak, wrenching out of his throat even though Clint tried to bite it back.

"Ready?"

"For--?" Clint didn't get to _what_ , because something clicked, and the thing inside him started buzzing, causing his whole body to jerk, pulling free of Pepper's hands. 

"You like that?" Tony asked, and pulled away, moving around to lie next to Clint, propped on his elbows and looking down, small box held loosely in his hand. He waved it under Clint's nose. "Know what this is?"

Clint knew what it was, but he shook his head anyway, pulling at his restraints and trying to bring his legs together. His dick hurt inside the cage, forcing dampness to his eyes. "Then let me show you," Tony offered, and tapped the remote with his thumb. Clint keened, trying not to yell, but unable to hold the sound in.

"Is this really," he managed, after a few seconds, "your fucking plan?"

"Joint plan," Tony corrected, and leaned away to trade remote for phone, directing it down at Clint a second before Pepper kicked the vibrator up another notch. This time the cry was out before Clint could strangle it, and it was possible that he'd missed the shutter click, but just as likely that Tony had changed settings and was recording video. Clint tossed his head, turning away, breath harsh, aware of Tony's closeness, and the relaxed, easy way he was watching Clint lose his mind. 

Pepper hit the remote again, and Clint shouted, then shouted again, unable to get away from it, twisting in the restraints, losing sound and time and with bright spots encroaching in his vision. Lightheaded with it and begging incoherently. When his breath ran out and he settled to low moaning and more feeble escape attempts, Tony and Pepper were making out, standing in front of the bed, with their arms around each other, remote dangling from Pepper's fingers.

"Fuck," Clint whimpered, "Fuck, I hate you both." He couldn't get any heat into, and it came off pathetic, with the way he was squirming against the sheets and with the small noises he couldn't help making. Almost too distracted to enjoy the way Pepper's skirt was hitched over Tony's arms so he could cup her ass as they kissed.

The cuffs were holding firm, and with the bar now fixed to the other end of the bed--when had they done that?--Clint was pulled flat, not going anywhere. He could roll his hips, but the vibe moved with him, and the cage stayed in place. He could feel himself fuzzing out, overwhelmed, mouth hanging open while he tried to pant and beg at the same time, and ended up with breathy throat noises.

Tony fumbled with his pants, and Clint cursed, because fucking in front of him under the circumstances was cruel and unusual and rubbing things in way more than was really necessary. Usually, watching Tony and Pepper try to out maneuver each other was hot and funny, but being left out of it was unbearable, so Clint stopped watching. Just scrunched his eyes shut and tried to weather the rest of the morning and hoped his brain didn't short out in the process.

Hoped they'd take the cage off and let him come, fuck.

The vibrator switched to a pulsing rhythm, and Clint gave up. Let himself struggle and moan and cry, and call for Pepper and Tony to fuck him, touch him, anything, and then his awareness just washed out. 

Clint wasn't sure if he'd passed out or overloaded, or they'd actually managed to fry his brain, but when he opened his eyes again, his hands and legs were free and one of them had rolled him onto his back. The vibrator was also gone, and Clint sighed in relief and swallowed. Mumbled, "Fuck," and scrubbed at his face. He was still crazily turned on, but there was distance now, leaving him sensitive and twitching a little, but calmer. Cooled down enough to accept Tony's hand on him, easing over his belly and down, to check the cage he was still trapped in.

"Are you okay?" Tony asked, still looking amused, but in a warm way that Clint kind of liked. 

"Yeah."

"Want this off?" Something clicked, off to one side. Clint let it. 

"If you want."

"If _I_ want, huh?"

"We," Pepper corrected, from where the click had come from. " _We_ , please," then asked, "How is he?"

Tony's hands were on his face, brushing Clint's hair back, even though it was too short to get into his face, and smiled down at him. "I think we might've blown out the motherboard." 

Clint groaned. Blinked a few times to clear his vision. Tony let him go, then left and came back, to dump the comforter back on the bed and crawl in under it, nudging Clint onto his side and pressing up against his back. "What--?"

"Nothing's happening. Nap, then food, then you get to come, and then nap again, probably. Or a different order if Pepper wants. I have to consult before I'm allowed to make promises." 

"'Kay."

"Okay?" Tony wrapped an arm around his middle, wiggling closer, "You broke Hawkeye, Pep. He's agreeing with things."

Clint was still buzzing, and Tony being plastered against his back wasn't doing that much to settle him down, but he stayed still and let Pepper stroke his arm soothingly, sitting close by on top of the comforter, phone still tucked in her other hand. There was a playful little smile on her face, and Clint remembered his hands were free now and reached for her. Caught her around the sides of the head, so he could pull her in and kiss her. His fingers snagged in her hair a little, and he had to awkwardly half sit-up to reach without pulling Pepper off-balance and down.

Until Tony smacked him on the hip. "Hey."

Clint let go and flopped back down, but when he tried to roll over to give Tony the same treatment, Pepper stopped him, her hand back on his arm, fingers tight until he stilled. Then she released him with a little pat. "Let Tony sleep, huh?"

"Some of us didn't lie around all morning." Tony sounded grouchy, but he also had an arm draped over Clint, and his hand was searching around for Pepper's, patting clumsily and making silly reaching gestures.

Tony had woken him up first, and it was their fault he was wide awake now, but Clint didn't mention it, watching Pepper catch Tony by the fingertips then pretend to lose her grip while Tony strained to hold on. Clint reached and unhooked Tony's fingers, making them slide off Pepper's. A pretty mild retaliation, but Tony huffed indignantly.

"Nap then food, then other stuff I can think up," he threatened, not stopping the game he was playing with Pepper. Just taking a second to shove Clint's hand back down. "And I can think up _lots_ of stuff. It could take all day before you get to come. If we still remember."

It was an empty threat. Tony wouldn't be that much of an asshole, but more, Pepper wouldn't _let_ Tony be that much of an asshole. Clint shuffled, making room for Pepper as she fumbled and jerked at the comforter, pulling it out from under her until she could wriggled in with them, in front of Clint, and putting him between them. Clint lifted an arm to let her roll close, and Tony reached for her again, this time trying to hug around Clint.

"Don't let him butter you up. We talked about this. This is his divide and conquer tactic." Tony kissed the back of Clint's neck right after saying it, defusing the accusation, sliding his hand off Pepper and onto Clint, settling it low on his stomach so he could pull Clint's hips back against his.

"I thought you wanted a nap," Pepper said. 

"Mm. But I think Barton's all napped out, right Clint?" Tony said it against his shoulder, peering over it at Pepper, if her purse lipped expression was any clue. Clint grinned. Ducked his head down to hide it and to stay out of the crossfire, but her only response was a dubious _mm-hmm_ sound. Her fingers settled carefully in Clint's hair. Made small spidery motions against his scalp.

"Yeah?" she asked, and got a grip on his hair, tugging his head back up, just enough that she could make eye contact. "Or are you just being good for Tony?"

"He's never good for me," Tony complained, "You should see the attitude when you're not around."

Pepper gave him a look, but Tony didn't respond. Maybe hadn't noticed, busy kissing Clint's back and shoulder, hand drifting until he could flick a finger against the cock cage, his nail making soft _plick plick_ noises against the metal. "Well. Maybe when he wants something." 

Tony was full of shit, but Clint wasn't about to say so, in case he was considering taking the cage off and maybe letting Clint come sooner rather than later. He licked his lip, hopeful, and swallowed. 

"Clint?"

"Whatever you want." It came out rough. Clint's throat felt dry.

"Whatever I want? How about I give you some choices?" Tony wrapped his hand around Clint's trapped cock, fingers stroking him through the gaps, thumb brushing the inside of Clint's thigh. "I can take this off." He slipped the fingers of his other hand back inside Clint, pulled them out, then thrust them back in. Clint made an _ah_ sound, mouth hanging open, and dug his fingers into the sheet, hanging on, the other twisted in the comforter, pulling it half off Pepper. "Or I can fuck you."

Clint had a passing thought for Pepper, but she was probably a part of this plan, because she didn't argue or tell Tony off or help get Clint out of hot water. She did make soothing noises and pet him and lean over to whisper things to Tony, and if they got distracted by each other, Clint was going to give up and just die right there in their comfy bed.

"Fuck me," Clint decided, before that could happen. "I want you to fuck me."

"Good choice."

"But I still get to come, right? Later?"

Pepper laughed. Glanced over at Tony in a way that made Clint really love her, for reasons he wasn't entirely clear on, except that she looked like she was making sure Tony hadn't missed out on something really fun. "Yes, you still get to come later."

"Okay. Good."

Tony pulled his fingers out, and squirmed, rooting around in the bed for something with one hand still on Clint's trapped cock, until Pepper sat up to help him search. Their team work wasn't falling apart, exactly, but the bumps they were hitting made Clint grin. It also shook loose a bit of the agreeable feeling. "Lost the lube?" he asked, trying to make it sound innocent and not like he'd found a hole in their facade.

Tony paused the search long enough to smack him on the ass, said, "Shut it," and Clint did, but mostly because something plastic made a click sound.

"Oops." Pepper didn't sound like _oops_. Pepper sounded like whatever she'd done was intentional, sitting on her knees close to Clint's stomach and reaching over him to do something. Not touching him, but very intent, and Clint couldn't tell what she was up to until Tony hissed, then swore, low and appreciative and from somewhere in his chest, and then they reorganized again and he was pushing into Clint while Pepper sat back, hand on Tony's on Clint's dick, watching Clint scrunch his face up.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck." Tony was going slow. Either trying to be gentle, or trying to torture him to death. With Tony, it could be either. "Tony," Clint tried anyway, putting a pleading note into it, pushing back against him.

Pepper had him by one wrist, holding his hand down against the mattress. A pin that should have done nothing to keep Clint in place, but his gaze fixed on her hand over the dark cuff, and on his own fingers tangled into the sheet. There was no chance in hell he was moving if Pepper didn't want him to. Clint was pretty determined about it.

Pepper shushed, but Clint couldn't tell if it was meant for him, or directed at Tony, who was breathing hard, forehead pressed to Clint's back, one arm around him and the other between Clint's legs, tracing the cage almost absently, in casual possession. 

Clint moaned, turned his face into the sheet and panted open-mouthed. Heard himself make a hitching, sobbing noise, and reached down with his free hand, catching Tony by the wrist, but not pulling. Just hanging on while Tony sped up. Murmuring, "That's it, Clint, that's it."

Clint nodded stupid, frantic agreement. His cock ached in the damn cage, and Pepper was touching his face, tracing his mouth, brushing his tongue. Letting Clint press pleas against her fingers, then breathe a long _ah_ as Tony came and slowed, thrusting lazily for a little before stilling inside him.

"Oh geez. Fuck, Barton. That's it. That's it. You're okay."

Pepper was in his arms, rolling up against him, and Clint wasn't sure when she'd moved, but he was pressing his face against her, head tucked to the curve between shoulder and breast, where he could feel her heart thump against his cheek. "Hey beautiful," she whispered.

Clint took a long, unsteady breath, and was surprised when the sound he made wasn't a sob, but a muffled laugh. It was startling, and Tony hummed and stroked his back. Murmured, "Easy, Baby," until Clint laughed again, softer, and let them tuck him between them so they could whisper bullshit at him until he calmed down and got too warm for the close contact. 

When Clint started getting restless, Tony rolled away, giving space and letting cool air flood in under the comforter, but also extricating himself all the way to the bathroom, to go clean up.

Clint sighed, shifted back from Pepper and sprawled out, kicking the comforter off the both of them, and pretended he wasn't thinking about his dick and getting to come later, and maybe a little bit about Tony's hands on Pepper's ass and both their hands on him. 

"Lots to do first, Barton," Tony said, coming back, and reading his mind. It wasn't that hard a read. 

"I think we got 'nap' off the list," Clint offered, but let his eyes slide closed while Tony patted him down with a damp towel. It probably wasn't doing much, but it was cool and nice, so Clint went with it. "What's step two? Are we up to lunch yet?"

"And the selection process for Pepper's thing, which, frankly, was my favorite part of this plan."

Which meant it was Pepper's game, and it was still going. Clint _huh_ -ed, but didn't move. Said, after a while, "Okay."

"Maybe in a bit," Pepper said, "I don't want him making decisions when he's all fuzzy."

"He'll say _yes_ when he's all fuzzy," Tony argued, bouncing the bed as he climbed back on, but Clint couldn't be bothered trying to follow their conversation or figure it out, and let himself drift, then sleep. 

So he didn't get caught up until they were sitting at a table in some fancy place where people would leave Pepper and Tony alone. Clint was trying to catch his own reflection in the tabletop, sure he looked scruffy on top of underdressed, and with Tony and Pepper sitting side by side across from him to make things worse, looking stylishly ruffled at worst. 

"So," Pepper said, poking at her phone with a frown, and Clint had almost completely forgotten about the pictures right up until that moment.

"You better just be checking your schedule," he said.

"Or sorts. Or, really. Asking about _yours_."

Clint looked between them. He was still wearing the cage and it was killing him and they had better not be trying to pencil him in between board meetings or Clint was going to murder them. Just murder them both, right there in a high class establishment, on security camera and everything.

Pepper set the phone up on the table. Its cover kicked out to make a little stand, screen facing Clint. Then she folded her hands under her chin.

"I'm not sure if I should ask what I did," Clint said, because it felt a bit like facing game tape of mission fuck-ups, "Or ask if you're really about to play what I think you're about to play." In public.

"We have a proposition," Pepper said, and she was way better about being consistent with the _we_ thing.

"Since everyone knows about you anyway. More or less," Tony added, and Clint hunched his shoulders.

"Oh god, the magazine thing is real."

Pepper smiled. Her phone screen clicked on. It was neat. It probably involved JARVIS, somewhere, but Clint was impressed. 

"Pep's tired of the gossip," Tony said, ignoring the phone like he hadn't spent time making that trick work just right. Clint let his hands slide off the table. "And maybe you're kind of sick of the gossip."

Clint didn't give a shit about the gossip. Clint cared a bit about some of the being tailed around and the hiding and maybe just a bit about the malicious tone to some of the coverage aimed at Tony, but he wasn't sure sending Pepper's homemade porn to a publisher was an effective counter to any of that. He gave Tony a dubious look. Slid it over to Pepper.

"You _do_ look very good, sleeping in our bed," Pepper said, "And I, _we_ , were wondering--"

"Maybe you'd like to stay."

"In your bed."

"In general. And if you say no," Tony went on, "we can keep on keeping on, or you know. Whatever you want."

Pepper reached the phone to him. Tapped the screen as soon as he was holding the thing cradled warily in his hands. "And I was thinking, if it's okay with you, I could start by dropping a mention in that lifestyle piece." She flicked the screen, and it went to photos, but not the ones from that morning that Clint was sure were all obscene and prime blackmail fodder, if Pepper had been anyone else. Instead, it was a picture Clint didn't remember her taking, maybe from the night before, of him and Tony. Clint, looking disgruntled and sleepy, and Tony giving him the stupid look Clint always caught him giving Pepper. Completely innocent, and kind of boring, if not for all the media speculation about Tony and Pepper and what one of them, or maybe Clint, was up to. "Of us."

"Huh," he said.

"If you want," Pepper said, then explained, "They wanted a few personal photos."

But not _that_ personal. Everything in the older was pretty ordinary. Clint flipped through a few, but before he could get very far, Tony grabbed the phone back and asked, "What she means is, do you mind if Pepper subtly, but semi officially mentions you so we can stop sneaking you around like a scandal, and two, do you mind if we start implementing the designs Pepper has on your contract, and two-dash-B, if you agree to that second one, it's an automatic yes to the first, because we all know how I am with actual secrets. And scandals. Lies, I can mostly do."

"You can think about it," Pepper offered, and fiddled with a spoon. She looked nervous, and that wasn't usual for her, unless it was about Tony doing something stupid or sticking his neck out. "Nothing has to change if you don't want it to, whatever you decide."

"And the contract?"

"Up to you. Anything you want in it, can be. Vetoes, conditions." Tony leaned forward, the way he did when he thought he was about to get his way. Bright eyed and intent. Next to him, Pepper bit her lip and fumbled the spoon. "I'll sign right now," he said, "Pepper, too. Write it all in your tiniest Hawkeye small print, we don't need to read it. Yes to everything."

"Well," Clint considered, "Your bed _is_ pretty great."

"You bet it is."

"And I'll want one of those pictures of Tony looking like an idiot." 

Pepper nodded, serious. "Can do. But don't answer now. We had a whole plan set up to convince you."

"Oh." Clint grinned. "Okay. I'll sleep on it then."

"Or other things," Tony suggested. Clint ignored it, because he didn't need to hear Tony's ideas while he was still locked in the cage, and flipped open a menu.

Asked, "Does this place serve late breakfast?"

"For you? Yes." Tony signaled a waiter. Leaned back, "What do you want? Stacks of pancakes? French toast? Pile of waffles? Crepes with fancy little fruit things? Or some of everything, with ice cream on top and a bucket of coffee?"

"That is very convincing," Clint agreed. Tried, just to see how it felt, "Sir."

Tony smiled. A soft, pleased look Clint was more used to seeing on Pepper. "Don't be impressed yet, Barton. Make it a challenge."


End file.
